


Robbie Stacey Valentino

by Ryumaru



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (it doesn't actually happen), Coping, Depression, Gen, Healing Relationship(s), Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 17:42:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3618555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryumaru/pseuds/Ryumaru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not okay. He's not alright. There's a hollow feeling in his gut that keeps trying to drag him down. It won't go away, and hasn't gone away since it showed up years ago. </p>
<p>But there are ways to deal with it. </p>
<p>(A brief exploration of what I think the inside of Robbie's mind is like, because I'm convinced the poor guy suffers from chronic depression.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Robbie Stacey Valentino

Robbie Stacey Valentino is not a happy young man. 

It's not the overbearingly cheerful parents, or the backwater town he lives in. He just... isn't happy. And it hurts. It hurts so much because it feels like he _can't_ be, _won't_ be happy, and he doesn't know why. 

Wendy. Wendy made things better. She didn't fix the hole in his Self that felt like a gaping abyss that gnawed at his insides, sucking away the joy that he should have felt – other people felt it, that was plain – and permanently dragging the corners of his mouth down. But she made it tolerable. And then she didn't like him anymore, not like _that,_ even if she still didn't want to be friends, and the abyss told him that it was because he was an awful person and didn't deserve to be happy.

Happy? What's that? Something that happens to other people, clearly, and not Robbie Stacey Valentino. 

He'd shifted the burden of guilt onto that Pines kid, Dipper. Took all of the blaming and vicious name-calling and hatred that he normally directed at himself and rearranged his mind so that for once he couldn't blame himself, _wouldn't_ blame himself. It didn't work. The kid's just a kid. He didn't steal Wendy. Nobody stole Wendy. Wendy belongs to Wendy, and nothing can change that.

That's part of what makes her so attractive, he remembers. Not that it matters now. 

On the days his brain doesn't feel like reminding him about his failures with Wendy, or how her eyes looked when she gave him a sidelong glance, or the time he brought her flowers and chicken soup when she was sick, his brain finds a dozen other mistakes and screw-ups and worse things to remind him of. The time he lashed out and hit a girl in his fifth grade class, because he felt really bad and didn't know why but what he did know was that _he didn't want people touching him_. The time he forgot Wendy's birthday. The time he yelled at his parents, who were trying their hardest to understand him, and spent hours huddled under his blankets in his room wishing he were dead. 

Finding facades had helped. The music eased some of the pain and when the abyss bubbled up inside his brain and asked for blood he'd hold his guitar, just hold it, with no gloves on and grip the neck tight enough that the strings would leave red lines along his fingers. Sometimes he'd lay his arm along the strings and just _feel_ the way they bit into his skin and left a map of chords along the inside of his arm. The part of him that refused to give in to the abyss snarled in triumph every time he did that and looked at the red lines. _Not today_ , it would growl. Because no matter how much the abyss wanted it, _he would not give in to that_. 

(He threw out his pocket knife when he was 12 because of how frightening and _evil_ the thing had looked under the full moon filtered through his blinds at midnight. He hadn't slept that night and failed his history quiz the next day) 

The makeup was part of the music look, but he took a strange comfort in having something on his face so that people would see that and not look further. They'd see the eyeliner - “It's eye paint for _men_ , thank you!” - and not look past it to see the hurting boy who didn't know what to do about the black pit that kept him from being human. 

The breakup had hit him hard, but that snarling beast had fought with all its strength to keep him up, up and away from the edge of the pit. Hanging out in the graveyard, alone with his thoughts, had given him a perverse tenacity and somehow buoyed him up. Surrounding himself with death and dusty, broken old memories had made his thoughts lighter. Kept the tendrils of the abyss away. Here were all the people who had or hadn't lived full lives. The headstones gave Robbie Stacey Valentino the feeling that his wasn't done just yet. 

The graveyard led to Tambry. Some magic, some miracle had brought them together, and he was thankful. Now he had someone to help him move on, and despite the phone that was her shield from the world, she was doing that. She couldn't make the abyss go away – nothing could do that – but having her around was an anchor, a beacon, a lighthouse in a storm. He doesn't remember Wendy doing anything like that, though her continued friendship, fortunate as he is to have it, gives him an extra oar to paddle with. Despite the abyss repeatedly telling him so, she doesn't hate him. It helps. 

Robbie Stacey Valentino wonders how much his parents know what's going on with him. They're so aggressively cheerful and helpful and _concerned_ that it just makes things worse. Not that they know. He doesn't leave any signs. No tearstains on his sheets, no tissues to clog garbage cans. It might be easier if he could leave those, but he can't. The abyss swallowed all his tears. He doesn't feel sad, just _empty_ , with an endless tide of _you don't matter and never will_ washing against his thoughts. 

There's a mental image that pushes the whispers of the abyss away. Tambry, peeking over the edge of her phone at him, the hint of a smile showing on her face. It's not perfect, it's not everything, but it's a small reminder that _he does matter to someone_. 

He just wishes he knew how to actually feel that in his bones the way other people seem to. But the abyss is always there, replacing his bones with doubts and self-hatred, scaffolding him with little lies to himself that are meant to rot away and let him collapse. Somehow, he hasn't yet. He might someday, and that is a very real fear of his but _not today_ as his pride snaps and gnashes its teeth again. 

Maybe someday, tomorrow or the next day, he can talk to Tambry, or Wendy, or any of the other guys (even that Dipper kid might listen) and tell them that he feels empty and _(scared)_ doesn't know what to do. There's nowhere to go but to them. 

Robbie Stacey Valentino is not a happy young man. But against the wash of the abyss, there is hope.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like Robbie gets a bad rap. He's got a lot of issues, but being an emotional teenager is just the start. Depression is a pretty common psychological problem, and I started thinking about how Robbie might suffer from it. 
> 
> While having a healthy relationship does help with chronic depression, it's not a cure-all. I tried to portray that, but the stream-of-consciousness... ness of this might not show it. Seriously, the guy needs help, his parents don't know what to do, his friends have no idea, and for some reason I doubt Gravity Falls has a really good mental health professional available. 
> 
> Writing this was also cathartic for me. I've dealt with depression before. It's awful, it's draining, it's one of the worst things in the world because you know it's hurting and you know it will ruin you but you can't bring yourself to do anything about it. 
> 
> I feel like I need to include this here: if you think you or someone you know is suffering from chronic depression, get help. Find more information, find out what you can do. I've been there. It sucks. But it can, and will, get better.


End file.
